(My take on the aggressors of the world)

Many a thought has come and gone,
But not one can deny
The cacophony in your song,
A futile, vengeful cry.

You like to think you’re king or queen,
With head that touches sky.
But hurting those with thoughts serene
Belies your weakest try.

Those who must suffer in your ‘midst
Grow stronger with pure will,
So while you wave your beastly fist,
Think hard of keeping still;

‘T is not the place of humankind
To judge the way you do,
For those who bless others will find
They are a chosen few.